


#30daysofchris challenge

by trilliananders



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Gifted (Movie 2017), Knives Out (2019), Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010), Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliananders/pseuds/trilliananders
Summary: a different chris evans character drabble every day in june
Relationships: Curtis Everett/Reader, Frank Adler/Reader, Lucas Lee/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	1. curtis everett: to forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: curtis everett x reader
> 
> description: sometimes it’s easier just to forget, even if it’s for a moment

This was the only time you were able to escape. Mind blissfully blank under practiced fingers and the carefully plucked strings of your womanhood beneath thin and worn blankets. The only privacy a half-drawn curtain and the dim light of one or two lanterns. A mouth pressed tightly to yours to swallow the pants and moans you’d been releasing otherwise. Your own hand working steadily against his hard length.

“Curtis.” A whimper against his mouth as his fingers finally dipped inside you.

“Shhhh.” As they began to stroke your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that made you grip him a little harder. His own muffled groan against your lips.

You found him here, purely by fate. The survival, making it on the train before the rest of the world froze. You’d not the chance to notice him at first. It was dark back then. Crammed shoulder to shoulder almost.

At least until people started dying off. The hunger only outmatched by the cold. You’d been afraid of him at first, truly. He was strong and healthy. Him and a group like him were villains in those days. More than Wilford.

The horror of it stayed with you even still. When they brought in the protein blocks, the echoes of it still rang through the train car. People didn’t really talk in the beginning. But you remember him sitting across from you with a protein block in hand, unable to eat. His eyes meeting yours all red and weepy.

How do you live with yourself after doing what you all did back there?

You remember reading a book once. About Russian history. When the Tsars fell, and revolution reigned the people were without food. They began to eat their neighbors. They would feed their children on their dead siblings. You tried rationalizing that you wouldn’t have survived without it.

Your eyes focused on the bloody rag wrapped around his arm. Waiting for infection to set in.

That same arm working you to release as you cry against his lips. A mutual need to just disappear for a minute or two. Any time you could pretend like you weren’t here. And this wasn’t your life. Minutes after he would spill into your hand. A rag to clean you both off and a whisper still so close and intimate.

“I used to love going to the movies.” You say, your nose brushing against his as you count his eyelashes in the dark. “We used to go every week.” He hums, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling your head to rest on his chest.

“My friends…” After a moment of silence he spoke softly, you could barely hear it, “We used to go bowling.” Your fingers drawing silent patterns on his chest. Tears hot and a sniffle.

“I forgot about bowling.” You look up at him, his eyes staring straight ahead at the bunk on top of you. “Were you any good at it?” A twitch on the corner of his lips as he thinks back, before letting out a soft laugh.

“I was terrible.”


	2. ransom drysdale: criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
> 
> description: you remember the first time you’d ever met ransom.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” He jokes. The absolute gall. Who does he think he is? You see, once you put on that orange jumpsuit you become just like everyone else. It didn’t matter if his family had money or not. He was a criminal now.

A murderer.

And he was sitting across from you, his chained hands in his lap. A chain connecting from his wrists to his ankles. His hair a little longer than it had been at his arrest, curling down around his ears. His date having been pushed further and further back as he begged Mommy for money.

Unfortunately, he was stuck with you, a state appointed attourney. It must suck to be cut off like that. His family not caring must sting at least a little bit. And like a neglected child acting out in class, he wasn’t taking this meeting seriously at all.

“You know you’re looking at life in prison, right?” An eye roll. Of course, he knows. You’d heard the recording. The hard evidence against the prick across from you. His jaw is set and he’s sitting back in his chair like he’s hot shit and you’re just supposed to work magic and get him off. Or at least talk to his Mom about it.

“And you’re supposed to be defending me,” He scoffs, “How do you feel knowing they gave you over to me?” A losing case. No way to get him off. Not without help from Mommy. You sigh and flip through your file. And from the corner of your eye you see him adjust himself in his pants.

“Try to keep your hands above your waist, please.” The irritation clear. His lips purse,

“My balls were sticking to my thigh.” You scrub your face. Exhausted already and you’d barely been with him for thirty minutes. “You know,” He sucks in his teeth, “You’re actually not bad to look at.”

You’d met him once before, not that he probably remembers anyway. At a bar in your college days. He was cute and you could have been obsessed with him once. Another one of those girls who got lovesick over some Boston trust fund asshole who would fuck you in the bar bathroom and then periodically booty-call you whenever their other plans fell through.

He’d spilled a drink on you, wasted and red faced and flushed. His sinfully pink lips splitting into a laugh before pressing them against your own, hard. Just before throwing up all over your shoes.

You let out a short laugh at the memory. The fucking prick. You glance up at him,

“What’s so funny?” He asks. And you lick your lips, sitting back in your seat, crossing your arms on your chest and studying him for a moment more. He was so different than he used to be. And it wasn’t just the orange jumpsuit and the half grown out hair. The pretty boy face ruddied up from not knowing his place in the jailhouse.

“I just think it’s funny that Ransom Drysdale is now a criminal.”


	3. lucas lee: so a guy walks into a bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: lucas lee x reader
> 
> description: you meet the “greatest actor of all time” in a bar, and he tries to take you home

You just wanted a drink. That’s all. It’d been a hard day. A long day. The worst day. And you just wanted to have a drink. Why couldn’t you just have a drink? It didn’t seem like too much to ask. You’d done it before. Plenty times and you really hoped that today you would be able to do it again.

You’d barely gotten the sweaty bottle in your hand when he’d saddled up next to you. A gaggle of fans behind him all vying for his attention. And he wanted to talk to you.

“I’m sure you know who I am.” A smirk on his lips, “A-Lister, Lucas Lee.” A short man with a boom mic leaning in. You push it out of your face.

“Yeah, but listen—”

“Come here often?” His hand open on the bar and another man jet around his side placing an open bottle into it, while he lifted his hand to his lips. Taking a swing. Seamless.

“What the—”

“Listen,” Leaning in, someone propped a light up to where it just focused on his eyes. Like some close-up drama shot. “How bout you and I take this back to my place?”

“Take what?” You look around the bar, the fans standing silently to the side, observing. The film crew. “What is this?” Turning back, it was some other dude with a horrible chin strap instead.

“So how about it?” His voice not quite right, his face similar but not the same.

“What do you say?” Lucas asked, zipping up his fly as he stepped from the bathroom. His arm held out beside him; a skateboard placed in his hand. “How bout we do a different type of grind?” Eyebrow tweaked, he gestures towards the board and you don’t know what to say.

“Is this happening right now?” A hand to your forehead. Maybe you were having a stroke.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” He leans next to you on the bar, “But this is your chance to be with an Oscar winner.” A woman steps up and pats the shine growing on his forehead, layering more makeup. A little lip balm on his lips which he rubs together. The skateboard is gone. The beer is back. And the boom mic is above your heads.

“I… have to go.” Palming your keys into your fist and slipping from the bar stool. You’re stopped by his hand. And you glance down at his hip. Who even wears belt chains anymore? This guy was unreal.

“This is a once in a lifetime chance, are you sure you want to pass up on it that quickly?” He cracks his neck, side to side. And takes a glance up and down your body. “I could rock your world.”

“Yeah,” You laugh, “I’m sure.” The sea of bodies part for you to exit.

“Whatever, your loss.” A shrug and he moves on to the next girl at the bar. You take three steps away from the bar and stop. What the fuck just happened?


	4. frank adler: close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: frank adler x reader
> 
> description: frank’s a regular at your bar, and only a regular. until he takes you home.

“Frank.” A whimper as you’re lifted onto the counter. His mouth attaching itself to yours, hot and needy. His hands are rough on your hips, tugging at the waist of your jeans to work them down your legs.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful.” Pressed harsh into your mouth. The light from above the sink doing little to give you the ability to see, you can only feel as your bare ass meets the cold counter, jeans and panties thrown aside and he’s pushing your legs up, and taking to his knees on the floor.

This wasn’t how you expected the night to turn out. Every week Frank Adler comes and sits at your bar, sometimes he takes a girl home, sometimes it doesn’t work in his favor. But it’s his night out, a night where he gets to just be a bachelor versus ‘Dad of the Year’. You’d been serving him drinks for a while and his gaze had never turned to you. He’d just seemed so off tonight.

“Are you okay?” The cold bottle left your hand and into his and he looks at you with a tight smile.

“Yeah,” A nod, everything is fine. And then you mostly ignored him for the rest of the night, other than to refill his beer and when he asked for a water you seemed stunned,

“You never ask for water.” Hands resting on the bar top. “What’s actually going on?” He shrugs, leaning back in his chair he sighs.

“Just not feeling it tonight.” He looked a little more gruff than usual, beard a little longer, hair wilder and more unkempt. You pour the water for him regardless.

And later you find yourself talking to him while the bar closes down. He takes the bar mop from your hand and helps you wipe down the bar top and even helps you straighten out the chairs. You knew he was flirting, just a little, because you’d seen him flirt with other women before. But you couldn’t say that you hadn’t hoped some of that attention would have come to you at some point.

So, when you found yourself pressed against your car, his mouth hot on yours, you couldn’t stop.

Frank was an artist with his tongue. The orchestration of strokes on your clit, your head banged against the cabinet as you thrust your hips on his tongue. Those rough hands spread your thighs open as you found your release, only amplified by him sucking the tender bundle of nerves into his mouth.

His lips press to your thighs, one then the other, before he stands to meet your lips again. Fumbling with his belt buckle, he shifts to help you unbutton his jeans, pulled just below his ass, buckle clinked against the counter as the hot length of him pressed against you, a slow thrust and you were joined.

A gasp and those hands were gripping your hips, sharing the same breath and panting as a steady rhythm is found. His mouth meeting yours as his steady thrusts give you a stretch and burn you hadn’t felt in a long time. Hand pressing against the counter for leverage you begin to meet his thrusts. Your first orgasm leaving you sensitive and you were close, so close.

The sound of the latch turning on the door. And a scramble. Him to button his jeans and you desperately trying to shimmy yours up your legs to have some level of decency. And in walked Mary, followed by Roberta Taylor.

The blonde little girl, “I wanted to grab Fred.” Plain and simple. A cringe from the woman behind her,

“Sorry.”


End file.
